


Crash & Burn

by AngelicGrace



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, F/M, One Shot, Pre-Canon, Sam Winchester at Stanford
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 04:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4377890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelicGrace/pseuds/AngelicGrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What would I do without you?” He had said to her once, not meaning anything by it.</p><p> “Crash and burn,” She’d replied with a smile. In the end, she was the one who burned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crash & Burn

**Author's Note:**

> So here's an exploration of what happened the night Jessica died. Don't forget to leave kudos and comment with any constructive criticism you have for me! Please let me know what you think of my characterization of Jessica! Thanks :)

Jessica hummed as she bustled about the kitchen, searching for ingredients. 

She opened one of the cupboards with a soft click. “I could swear I put the sugar here,” she mumbled absentmindedly to the empty room. She scoured the kitchen, and finally found the sugar in the cabinet above the stove. Typical Sam. He couldn’t organize a kitchen to save his life. He really was lucky he had Jess to look after him (not that she was much better).

She had found the velvet box tucked under the bed last week. The ring rested inside, holding their whole future within it. Sam wasn’t nearly as sneaky as he thought he was, but she wondered, what was he waiting for? She wasn’t going to say no, and Sam knew that. He was probably planning some big romantic gesture, she thought wryly, laughing aloud at the thought of Sam, blushing and stuttering, getting down on one knee, all gangly limbs and floppy hair. It was a good thing she loved the dork.

Jess sighed, brushing her hair out of her face as she mixed together the ingredients, the scent of cookie dough filling the room. She thought of Sam’s brother, all rough edges and flirty smiles, and she wondered how Sam could idolize him so much.

“I love the Smurfs,” he had said, eyes raking lewdly across her bare legs and up to her chest. She had smiled tightly, and resisted the urge to kick him, because he was Sam’s brother, and Sam hadn’t seen him in years. Dean had been his world, like a father, brother, and role model all wrapped into one cocky, bowlegged man. But then, if he’d raised Sam, Jess’s sweet, brilliant Sam, Dean couldn’t be half-bad. She knew firsthand the impact leaving Dean had had on Sam. When they’d first become friends, he had confided in her, holding back tears as he spoke of his selfless, loyal brother, and the father that never wanted to see him again.

So Jess had waited and watched as Sam’s brother took him away with the words, “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days,”

Sam’s whole demeanor had changed, his gaze sharpening and his muscles tensing. This wasn’t the Sam that Jess knew. This wasn’t the Sam that chewed on pencils when he was nervous and laughed too loud at Jess’s dirty jokes and deadpan humor. This Sam was a warrior, and he had left with his brother, because the quiet life was never enough. A warrior always craves combat, and Jess had been left wondering if she even knew Sam at all. But Sam was coming home today, and he was going to propose soon, and maybe Jess could just shove all her doubts to the back of her mind. She loved him enough for that.

The light _ping_ of the oven jolted her from her reverie. She grabbed her oven mitt, sliding the tray of hot cookies out of the oven. She piled them on a plate, taking a bite out of one as an afterthought. Jess picked up a Sharpie to write Sam a note. _Missed you! Love you,_ she scribbled, placing the note on top of the pile of cookies. She almost added, _Get up the nerve to ask me to marry you soon, or I’ll have to propose to myself_ , but that seemed unnecessarily harsh. It would give Sam a shock, that's for sure, but she wouldn’t even get to see his reaction. No, it would be better if she messed with him and dropped subtle hints for the next few weeks, until he (hopefully) stopped being such a chickenshit. Jess smiled and collapsed into her bed.

A soft knock on the door elicited a groan and a few muttered curses before she rolled out of her (unfortunately) Sam-less bed and swung the door open.

Brady stood awkwardly on the other side, leaning against the doorframe. He reeked of alcohol, and, considering how he’d been over the past couple years; he was probably high as well. “Hey Jess,” He slurred. “’M sorry t’ b’ther you, but I can’t drive home b’cause—”

“You’re drunk off your ass?” Jess cut him off, her voice sharp with irritation.

“…yeah”, he mumbled. “C’n I come in?”

“Fine,” Jess muttered, silencing him with a glare.

“I need a place to sleep,” he murmured. “”M sorry, don’t wanna intrude,”

“I can crash on the couch. You want the bed?” she asked with a sigh. The couch was awful, but she wasn’t so cruel to let Brady wake up with a killer hangover _and_ a bad back from sleeping on the couch.

Brady nodded, and she led him to her bedroom. She stepped into the room and turned around, raising one eyebrow. “Is this good enough for you, Your Majesty?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and impatience as she waited for a response.

A dark smile unfurled across Brady’s face, and he straightened, all pretense of drunkenness lost. “This is going to be perfect,” He spoke in a lilting, haunting tone, and Jess felt a chill make its way down her spine. Something was wrong. She started to back away from him, but then relaxed, her mind clearing. What was she thinking? This was Brady, the same man who introduced her to Sam. Brady, who took Jess to prom back in high school because she didn’t want to go with any of the douchebags on the football team. Brady would never hurt her, would he?

Then his eyes flicked black, and Jess was pinned to the wall, gasping. He waited for her to scream, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“What the hell are you doing?” She was proud to notice that her voice held no fear. Her tone was harsh and unforgiving, and screamed _I have control here_ , although the scene reflected otherwise.

“Jessica Lee Moore,” the-thing-that-was-not-Brady said in a singsong voice. “I’m here to talk about Sammy. Because, you see, Jess, he’s not who you think he is.”

Jess almost scoffed at the blatant villain-monologue cliché, but she was powerless to stop the man’s two-fingered touch to her forehead that filled her brain with memories that were not her own.

She saw a hardened father with two little boys crisscrossing his way across the country; killing monsters she hadn’t known were real. She saw the arsenal of guns and knives in Dean’s beautiful 1967 Chevy Impala, and watched Sam, her Sam, shooting werewolves and decapitating vampires. She saw Sam the hunter in all his glory, and he looked so comfortable in his skin. Jess’s heart ached for him, for fitting so easily into the life he never wanted, but just wanting _so badly_ to be normal. _Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days_. It was inevitable, Jess reflected. The life had called him back, knocking on his door, and he left. _Oh Sam_ , she thought. _All you ever had to do was tell me the truth_.

Brady pinned her to the ceiling and slashed a cut through her belly. The pain ripped through her, and she felt her blood dripping down onto the bed. Her scream caught in her throat. She couldn’t make a sound, and she refused to cry. She wouldn’t give this black-eyed _thing_ that satisfaction. She thought of Sam, of his hair falling in his face when they met, his shy smile guarding the secret of the family business. His soft voice shaping the words, “Hi, I’m Sam Winchester.” Did she regret meeting him? She never could. Not Sam, even though, she thought, _I was dead from the moment we said hello._

Brady muttered some words that sounded vaguely like Latin under his breath, and Jessica’s body was racked with a new surge of agony.

He laughed. “Sorry sweetheart. Sammy boy cares about you a little too much. You were in the way. It’s not personal.”

But it was. What could be more personal than being pinned to the ceiling as your life drains away, when the love of your life was miles away, and had no idea that he would lose you without saying goodbye? Brady vanished with a snap of his fingers, and that was that.

Jess waited. Sam would be coming home soon. Maybe she would get that goodbye after all.

She heard the soft _snick_ of the door and listened to Sam’s heavy footfalls. He tasted the cookies she’d made, and she watched him smile with tears in her eyes.

He rolled into bed, closing his eyes without noticing her. Blood from her wound dripped onto his forehead. Jess made a choked sound as Sam’s eyes snapped open, staring into her own. He screamed, and then there was fire.

 

_“What would I do without you?” He had said to her once, not meaning anything by it._

_She had smiled before pulling him into a kiss. “Crash and burn,” She’d replied. Oh, the irony. In the end, she was the one who burned._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Blatant quotations from canon (from the episodes 1x01 and 5x03)


End file.
